


It Itches

by cuddlesome



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood, Drabble, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Kylo no you'll get an infection and your face will be even more messed up, One-Sided Attraction, Scratching, Self-Harm, you'll scare your lady love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The medical staff tells Kylo Ren many, many times not to touch his face. It will only make things worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Itches

The medical staff tells Kylo Ren many, many times not to touch his face. It will only make things worse.

He does not listen. Every waking moment he itches and scratches and then finally claws at the uneven burns roping across his face until warm wetness dribbles down his forehead, one eye, his cheeks. Blood catches in his eyelashes in his left eye, giving half the world a red border like he’s looking at a holiday card. When the trickles reach the corner of his full mouth his tongue darts out and catches some. It tastes just like it smells, rusty and salty.

He remembers when she gave the scar to him. He continues to rake his nails down it. He misses his gloves. He misses his mask more.

A medical droid tries to approach him, clearly intending to bind him to the bed again. “For his own good”, presumably. Kylo Ren does not wait to find out. He holds out his bloodied fingers for a moment, then folds them in with a crushing motion. The droid’s head caves in with a satisfying crunch of machinery and it stops mid-step before collapsing to the floor.

Distraction taken care of, Kylo Ren goes back to touching his face, this time focusing on the blood pouring from the wound and not the wound itself. When a sufficient amount gathers on his fingertips, he draws his hand back and looks at it, examining the sheen in harsh fluorescent light. It is a welcome diversion from the itch. From his thoughts of her.

Had anyone besides the recently ruined medical droid been around to see, they would have realized when Kylo Ren starts amusing himself with it, an excessively large child with macabre paint. He spreads red over his naked torso; drawing lines between his freckles, circling his caved-in stomach, brushing near the wound on his side.

There might be a steady supply of foul, different colored paint coming from that wound—tan, green, yellow—if he had not finally let the inflamed, pus-filled infection get cleaned up some time ago. The medical staff suggested they also take care of his face. The thought of anyone else touching it made Kylo Ren’s rage boil over and every bit of medical equipment in his vicinity suffered as a result.

Kylo Ren hesitates, then acknowledges the far worse itch in the back of his mind, the prickling desire. He cannot ignore it, but he is not finished playing. So he smears her name on his chest and encircles it with a heart to indulge both needs. Kylo Ren traces over the characters again and again, feeling his heart pulsating madly under the cartoon one he had drawn.

His scar stings again, as if full of barbs. Kylo Ren knows what the cure is—not his harrowed scratching, not accepting the medical attention offered to him. No, the only balm will be her chapped, sunburnt lips pressed to the damage she caused him.

Until then, it itches.


End file.
